


Dearg-Due

by Louiseflower117



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Not Canon Compliant, non-canon monster
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-11
Updated: 2017-03-06
Packaged: 2018-09-23 15:20:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9663356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Louiseflower117/pseuds/Louiseflower117
Summary: Dean, Sam, Cas and Claire are a relatively functioning family living in the bunker, doing their best to carry on the family business. A peculiar case might just lead them to make an unusual ally.





	1. New Case

“Dean, next time you get to kill the weird slime monster…” Sam grumbled, as he found and flicked another blob of gloop out of his hair and out of the window. When Dean had seen one of the flecs of slime land on the floor in the Impala, he had looked about ready to stab him.

 

Dean made a noncommittal noise, and Sam only rolled his eyes before glancing back at Cas, who hadn’t spoken a word since the drive began. It was understandable, considering that they’d promised Claire they’d be back two days ago: the hunt hadn’t turned out to be anything like they’d thought it would be and none of them had heard anything from Claire. Cas had been all for just teleporting back when she wouldn’t answer her phone, but Dean had talked him out of it, because if Claire wasn't alright, she would have called or prayed, right?

 

Pulling into the carpool of the bunker, Cas was out and heading for the stairs before Dean had even turned off the engine. In fairness, it wasn't very many moments before all three hunters had gone through to the kitchen, as that was most likely to be where Claire was, hands itching to draw weapons.

 

“Oh, hi guys, I wondered when you’d get back.” she cast them a brief smile, before turning back to the counter where she seemed to be making something for lunch. As she turned to pick up her plate loaded with a sandwich Shaggy and Scooby would have been proud of.

 

“Oh, by the way, I think I found you a new case? Well, some guy called the bunker phone and said he needed help with a case so… I did some research for you.”

 

With no further explanation, Claire left the kitchen and the three hunters quickly followed her down the corridor to the war room to see more than a few books open and scattered across the war room table. There were several pages of notes, most of which matched Claire’s handwriting, but one that was a printout of an email.

 

“He said it was a Dearg-Due, that he’d tried the usual methods of salt, silver and fire. Well, he’d sort of tried fire, but he hadn’t managed to actually set her on fire because she was very fast. So, beautiful lady gets married off to an abusive guy because her dad wants money, but she’s fallen in love with some poor guy, so she kills herself ‘cos there’s no other way out, but she climbs back out of the grave to get revenge on pretty much everyone by bleeding them out, like her abusive husband did to her. And so far, nothing says about how to kill her.”

 

* * *

 

 

After a couple hours of searching, once Sam had showered, Dean had found himself a beer and Cas was well and truly assured that Claire was indeed completely fine, it became apparent to the hunters that  Claire really had already gone through the entirety of the library and pulled out every book with even the slightest mention of a Dearg-Due, and none of it was very helpful.

 

“Alright Claire, who is the guy who sent you this?”   
“His name was Osborn, he sent me all his research, and the reports on seven different victims,”   
“Seven victims? How long has this thing been around, and where is it?”   
“Delaware, and there's more than seven victims, it's more like ten. But most of them were jerks who beat their partners so the cops aren't really interested in finding the killer.”   
“And we are?”   
“She’ll keep killing, and I said most. She also takes children; young children. Osborn didn't say she bleed them, but so far several have gone missing over the course of a month.”   
“This Osborn guy seems to know what he's talking about, why does he need our help?”   
“He said he can't kill it, and that with our bunker full of stuff we could probably find something.”   
“Wait, he knows about the bunker?”   
“Well he had the phone number for it, and he said about our library in one one of the emails.”

 

Claire’s eyes went a little wide as she looked round at the hunters, only just realising it herself. Grabbing up her laptop, she flicked through the emails, with Sam leaning over her shoulder.

 

“Who the hell is this guy?”   
“Email him, see what you can find out.”

 

Even before Claire could pull her fingers off the keyboard, an email popped up in response.

 

“Even for all your magically wards, your surprisingly easy to find, and you know that’s not the only bunker right? They're all over the world. I turned the British one into a school for hunters when it was first built, and it's at least a decade older than yours. I'd offer to help you do the same to yours but the construction of enough extra rooms would take a year.”   
“Wait, this guy was alive a decade before our bunker was built, and is still hunting?”

 

Claire sent back a very simple message: ‘What are you?’

 

“It'd be far easier to explain in person” she read out the almost instant reply, just as an all too familiar sound of an angel's wings swooshed through the bunker and a man materialised on the war room table.  Well, the edge of the table, the very edge. Even as he appeared, he fell backwards onto the stone floor with a dull thud and a slight groan.

 

“Good grandfather, how does heaven run when all those angels have to dodge around each other's grace?” He grumbled, sitting up without any apparent discomfort.

 

He was dressed like any other hunter Sam and Dean had ever seen: jeans, boots, dark jacket, with dark blonde hair cut short and eyes the same kind of blue that angel grace seemed to be. But Cas was the one who stepped closer, looking like he was about to smite the stranger.

 

“What are you?”

 

“You must be Castiel then, and the reason I couldn't land properly no doubt: I know Sam and Dean from all the stories I’ve heard, you two are awesome. I’m Osborn.”   
“I didn’t ask what name you are using as a guise, I asked what are you?”

 

Sam and Dean shared a brief glance, hands on weapons, though Sam was well aware that the silver bullets in his gun weren't going to be very useful against an angel. But Osborn put his hands up in surrender as he stood.

 

“Look, Castiel, I am no threat to you, or Sam, Dean or Claire. I came here with a case for you, nothing more. And just so you know, that case isn’t me. So hold off on the smiting. Or ganking.” He added, eyeing Dean with his hand on an angel blade.

 

None of the hunters looked any less ready to smite or gank him.

 

Osborn dropped his hands back down to his sides, huffing slightly before scrubbing his hands over his face. He didn’t seem very concerned about them doing him any harm, whether because he knew their weapons wouldn’t hurt him or that they wouldn’t use them against him was another matter.

 

“I’m hybrid, that’s why you can’t tell what I am Castiel. An abomination that shouldn’t possibly exist. But I mean none of you any harm and have no ill intent for humanity at large, in fact I’ve been trying to help it hunting all the nasties I can find around the world.”   
“Hybrid of what exactly?” Sam asked, curiosity peaked but sounding wary.   
“Please don’t be another Nephilim…” Dean mumbled under his breath.

 

“Oh grandfather no, I'm not a Nephilim. I don't think there actually is a name for my kind. I'm the bastard offspring of a demon and an angel getting down and dirty while in human vessels. Something about trying to stop a war between heaven and hell ever happening? Guess they didn't realise that abandoning me before I was even born was a bad way to make me interested in any of that. But I'm rambling, and we have a case.”   
“Hold on, we aren't just gonna let that drop. You’re half angel  _ and _ half demon?”   
“Yes, well sorta. I have human parents, who were a very sweet little peasant couple living in the reign of King Charles, the first one that is, back in England. Mother was possessed by an angel, father was possessed by a demon, but only for about two months. I was born eight months later, and I just… didn’t turn out human.” he offered, looking at them questioningly to see if they could finally drop it.

 

“You’re part demon, but you became a hunter?”   
“Yes. My mother, my  _ human _ mother, told me an angel had appeared to her in a dream and told her that I was to become a great hunter of all evil in the world, be it human or otherwise.”   
“Human evil?”   
“Well, that’s what the angel told her. The only humans I’ve ever killed were those possessed by demons that I couldn’t heal and Jack the Ripper.”   
“Wait, you know who Jack the Ripper was?” Sam asked, getting completely side-tracked by this information.   
“Well, yeah. And he was just a regular human, nothing supernatural about him.”   
“So who was? I mean you gotta tell us, cos-”   
“Sammy, another time. The guy could be lying, we don’t have any proof that you are a good guy anyway.” Dean interrupted.

 

Osborn huffed slightly, flicking his hands only to have them suddenly filled with a gun and an angel blade, both of which he offered handle first to Castiel, who took both gingerly. Flicking them again, to produce a shotgun in one hand, and a leather cartridge belt of what was clearly salt rounds, which Castiel also took, only to turn round from placing them on the war table to see Osborn offering what looked like a jet black angel blade, with gold wire wrapped around the handle, towards Sam.

 

“I’ll take that.”   
“No you won’t.” Osborn snapped, drawing the weapon away from Cas’ grabbing, putting everyone on edge again.

 

“No wait, I didn’t mean it like that guys. But this is a damn near unique weapon: angels can’t touch it, not if they have grace anyway.” Osborn said, before handing it over to Sam, who very carefully added it to the pile.

 

“Where did you acquire a blade that angels can’t even touch?”   
“I didn’t find it, I made it, the same way angels make their blades. Mum tried to show me how to make myself an angel blade and that was the result. When she tried to pick it up it damn near ripped her grace out of her.”   
“You’re still in contact with your mother?”

 

Osborn didn’t give any sort of answer but to cross his arms defensively, and Dean got the impression that he wasn’t going to give them any information about who his parents were willingly. Probably something to do with how bad it was to have created him: if creating a Nephilim was frowned upon, what would the other angels think to having gone a step further and breed with a demon?

 

“I’ve given you all my weapons, can we finally get to this Dearg-Due case? Please?”


	2. Chapter 2

“So you’ve already tried shooting it with silver and salt, setting fire to it and stabbing it with an angel blade?”   
“I tried to shoot it with bullets made from an angel blade, but yeah.”   
“What about your own fancy-ass blade?”   
“I doubt it would have worked against her.”   
“But you didn’t try it?”   
“No. That blade only works against angels and demons, neither of which she is so-” Osborn shrugged, and Dean cast a quick glance over to Cas where the concern was mirrored, and wasn’t subtle enough for Osborn to miss.

“One angel, and it was self defence and a last resort. I didn’t know it worked against angels at all until that moment anyway. And yes I have angel blades and bullets made out of them, but there were a lot of angel blades suddenly without angels after your war, you know? I didn’t think you’d like just anyone having access to them.” Osborn directed this all directly at Cas, with a slightly apologetic smile at the end. Cas nodded slightly, before tracking back to the case at hand.

“So what other methods do we have of disposing of the Dearg-Due?”   
“Uhm well, I brought the case to you guys because I thought maybe a little angel smiting would do the trick? Either that or you’d have something in this bunker that could help me out.”   
“Don’t you have your own bunker back in England?”   
“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean they’re stocked with the same stuff, and the whole thing with Dearg-Due is they renounce god before they die, so I was thinking that an angel of the lord would be a good fix for her.”   
“Could you not try that yourself?” Sam suggested.   
“Smiting? No. I don’t get to smite anything, I don’t have grace.” Osborn said, as confused at the question as Sam looked with the answer.   
“But you can teleport? I mean, you made the same wing-swoosh noise that Cas makes and you didn’t seem very hurt by falling off the table.”   
“Oh, I have wings and I basically don’t age with the healing factor, but I don’t have grace, only real angels get that.”   
“You don’t have a soul either.” Castiel interjected, staring at Osborn like he was trying to see inside him, or maybe through him? The humans present couldn’t really tell.

“No, but then neither demons or angels have souls.”   
“It looks something like grace, but it’s not the right… colour?” Cas didn’t sound happy with that particular word choice, but it seemed the best he could come up with that anyone else would have a chance of understanding.   
“Uhm, dude, can you stop staring at me like that? And did no one ever tell you it was rude to describe a person's inner workings with other people present?”

Castiel blinked slightly, not even realising he’d been making anyone uncomfortable, although staring at someone trying to figure out what they had instead of a soul or grace was probably crossing several lines once he’d considered it.

“So… you’d be willing to come and see if smiting her would work right? Otherwise, I’m gonna have to set up a way to trap her and keep her locked up forever and I don’t know how well that’ll work.”   
“Of course we would, Delaware isn’t that far. Though how Sammy never found the case-”   
“Yeah, that’s because the case isn’t in Delaware, it’s in Dorset, England.”

Everyone blinked rapidly a few times, as Osborn gave a sheepish smile in apology.

“I live and work across Europe, I’m not even sure if Delaware is a state or a city, I just knew it was somewhere in America.”   
“So you think we can just, hop on a plane and go back to Britain with you?”   
“With you all being legally dead and on watch lists? No, but I’ll remind you that you don’t need an airplane, you have me and Castiel.”

“So you're just gonna angel mojo us across the Atlantic?”

“Well, I flew all the way here and it only took me four seconds, it shouldn't take me more than six with passengers.”

“You sound like we have already agreed to go with you.” Cas said, looking a little skeptical.

“Oh well… if you don't wanna come back to the UK that's fine… thanks for your help anyway.” He said, standing up from the table and moving towards his pile of weapons, no doubt to start putting them away into whatever pocket dimensions he normally kept them.

“Wait, seriously? This is a brand new kind of monster and you two are content to not check it out?” Sam asked, “What if we get one over here? At least this way we'll know how to deal with it and less people will end up dead.”

Dean seemed convinced by this, even if Cas still looked skeptical.

“Can I come with you?” Claire asked, making every head turn to face her, “It sounds interesting to visit another bunker, better than staying cooped up in this one at least.”

Cas looked like he was about to argue back until Osborn spoke first.

“Of course! You can visit our bunker anytime, you can even go out with some of the hunters if you like, explore a town or whatever while they clear out the monsters nearby.” he offered, completely ignoring the fact Cas looked like he was about to smite him. “Or you can stay in the bunker, it's completely up to you.”

“Can I go now?”

“Well, yeah. If you get whatever things you want to take with you I can take you now and just fly you back when you want to come home.”

“Now hold on a minute, you think you can just take Claire and fly her halfway around the world?” Dean snapped.

“Oh, is she grounded or something? She's an adult, she can do what she wants. I promise no harm will come to her, we look after our guests.” Osborn replied, crossing his arms over his chest with a huff. “Or do you not trust that I'm just another hunter like you? That I'm going to whisk her away with evil intentions?”

No one answered, but they didn't have to say anything to show that they had clearly been thinking it. Rolling his eyes, Osborn turned directly to Claire. “Get whatever you want to take, and I'll fly you over for the week.”

“I'll just get my go bag.” Claire said, trying to contain her excitement and not doing a great job of it, before practically running down the corridor towards her room.

“You really expect us to just let you take her all the way to a different continent?”

“Fine, stop me. You can't keep her locked up in the bunker Castiel, that isn't looking after her, that's trapping her. Let her get out and spread her wings, sure she'll get her feathers ruffled a couple of times, but that's what they do.”

“What do you know of raising children?”

“More than you do, just because your vessel is her father's body does not mean you have any idea or right to be her father.”

Dean and Sam stood back a little, fairly convinced that Cas was about to smite Osborn to dust, when Claire ran back in, go bag over one shoulder as she put her laptop and phone into it.

“I hope you've got something waterproof in there, the heavens tend to open over England at least every other day.”

“Yeah, I've got a jacket. We off?”

“Yes, unless any of you have reconsidered taking the case?” Osborn asked.

“We will take the case.” Cas answered.

* * *

Ten minutes later of frantic weapon packing, and Dean giving Baby a pat goodbye, promising they would be back for her soon, they gathered in the war room again, bags over shoulders and ready to go.

“Castiel, if you are alright to follow?”

A stern nod, and Cas shouldered the extra bag of weapons and books they were taking.

“Alright then. Claire, hold on tight.” Osborn instructed, to which she nodded and they both stepped forwards, clutching onto each other in a hug while Cas merely gripped Sam and Dean tight by the upper arms before a loud swooshing filled the room and they disappeared.

* * *

Dean and Sam both landed heavily and would have fallen flat on the ground had Cas not been holding on nearly tight enough to bruise. Claire didn't even stumble, braced so tightly against Osborn until he let her go.

They were not inside in a bunker like Dean had been expecting, but rather in an open field with sheep grazing around them, a large shed in the corner nearest the paddock gate.

“Sorry, we've got warding so you can't fly any closer to the bunker than this.” Osborn explained, taking Claire’s bag from her as he lead them out of the field, down a single track road towards a collecting of charming old farm cottages besides a huge barn. Throwing open a side door, they all filled in to what was clearly not a barn ever used for the animals.

Cars of varying kinds were parked up along each wall, and a shallow ramp lead them down into a mechanic bay Dean had only seen the likes of at Bobby’s, although this one certainly seemed a little more modern. To one side, a simple set of concrete steps ran down and out of sight, and this is where Osborn led them.

“Oh and Castiel? If you feel anything iffy with your grace or your power, it's just the warding. Stops angels getting in, but also stops the power from heaven getting in here to them as well.” Osborn explained as they descended the steps. Cas only nodded briefly and continued walking. It had to be at least five stories down before the stairs ended.

The stairs lead out into a huge common area, of flagstone flooring covered in a various assortment of rugs, collections of mismatching sofas and arm chairs centred around coffee tables, and a large projector set up against the lower half of one wall with Rugby playing on it. Besides that, a huge whiteboard like the kind they had in schools which seemed to be numbers, locations and the suspected monster neatly written by what was clearly the same person each time, most of which had names following after in various handwritings. But what shocked them most as they walked in was the amount of people.

At least thirty people were lounging about, chatting away with each other or walking between doors. That was just taking into account the people on the ground floor. A large balcony wrapped around at both the second and third floor levels, with what looked very much like room numbers on each. There had to be at least a hundred rooms on just those two balconies alone.

“Daddy!”

“Hey angel,” Osborn responded, as a small girl of only six ran up to him, brown curly pigtails bouncing wildly as she ran, only for him to scoop her directly up into his arms and give her a kiss to the forehead. She looked like a miniature hunter: dressed in similar jeans and dark t-shirt to Osborn, although she was wearing trainers instead of boots.

“Your back from your hunt!”

“No no sweetheart, I just had to get some help, we're going back to finish that nasty Dearg-Due off later.”

“Oh, but we're having mac and cheese tonight!”

“You let Uncle Henry make mac and cheese on a day I wasn't going to be here, well we'll just have to see about that won't we?”

She giggled, before looking round at the four newcomers.

“Daddy, is that one of the good angels?”

“What have I told you about looking into people's souls like that?”

“That it's rude and I shouldn't do it. But he's flexing his wings towards that shorter one which makes it hard not to see!”

“Tilly, quiet now, that's very rude to say those things out loud.”

Depositing the girl, Tilly, back down on the floor, but she refused to let go of his hand.

“Tilly, why don't you show these guests to some spare rooms, while I go talk to your pappy?”

“But daddy, is he a nice angel?”

“Yes, Castiel is one of the good angels, just like Granny is, so you okay getting them rooms?”

“Okay!” she dropped his hand, spinning round to face them with her arms crossed behind her back, clearly trying to play the part of some big important helper. “My name is Tilly, and if you'll follow me this way I'll help you find a room!” she said, huge smile plastering her face to reveal a missing tooth. Osborn handed Claire her bag, then walked away to leave them in the charge of the six year old.

“Hi Tilly, I'm Sam. This is my brother Dean, and this is Claire.”

“Okay! The room desk is this way!” she replied, taking Sam by the hand as she started to lead them through the common area and off to the left, where a teenage boy was sat behind a small desk, a computer rigged up to the projector sat on one side and an open book about demons in front of him, from which he appeared to be making notes.

“Hello Dylan!”

looking up, Dylan smiled at Tilly, before looking up at the four standing behind her, including all the way up to Sam’s face.

“Two single rooms and one double please Dylan!” Tilly said, and Dean balked a little.

“Uhm, we don't need-”

“I know angels don't need to sleep, but surely Castiel and you like to have the option to sleep next to each other?” Tilly said, genuine confusion on her small face, before it turned to apologetic shock. “Or are you still closeted like Pappy used to be?” Her voice was genuinely apologetic for the potential slight.

“No no sweetie, it's just not something we tell to just everyone we meet.” Dean assured her, kneeling down to smile at her and elbowing Cas to make him nod along as well, while he had been completely distracted watching the people moving about in the common area. They weren't in any sort of official relationship, Cas moving his few belongs into Dean’s room in the bunker back home was the most official thing about it. “A double room is fine,”

“Uhm Tilly? How could you tell that Dean and Cas are-?”

“Castiel’s wings are the same way around Dean as Daddy's are around Pappy.” she answered like it was the most obvious thing in the world, turning around to take the room keys from Dylan. They were simple Yale keys with colourful numbered tags, and of course there were duplicates of one, and as she handed them out Cas and Dean got matching keys. Then she grabbed Sam’s hand again and was leading them through an archway into a long corridor, which instead of walking down it they were going up a set of spiral stairs to the first balcony. Sam and Claire’s rooms were apparently right next to each other, and as the two stepped into their rooms, Tilly switched the hand she was holding to Dean’s and pulled him along back to the stairs and up to the second level. There were less doors, and they were a little farther apart but when Cas opened the door, it all looked a lot nicer than their normal motel rooms did.

“Dinner's at seven if you want to eat with everyone else!” she told them, before letting go of Dean’s hand and skipping down the  balcony and waving to them before she all but ran down the stairs.

As Dean dropped his bag to the floor and then collapsed backwards on the bed with a huff, he glanced over at the angel.

“I'll be honest Cas, this isn't what I was expecting our recovery day to look like.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'll be honest, I'm not entirely sure where I'm headed with this story or anything, so please don't be mad at me if this takes lots of random turns, I'll just do my best to keep the continuity errors away


	3. Chapter 3

Cas moved their few belongings into the chest of the draws provided, and stashed their weapons in a gun locker also in the room, before sitting down on the edge of the bed beside Dean.

“How did you see this day going then?”

“Beer, sleep, pie, teach Claire to shoot.”

“Claire is already proficient enough with guns.”

“She needs more practise still.”

Cas didn’t respond, merely watched Dean sit back up and stretch a little, hearing joints pop quietly.

“When did that girl say dinner was gonna be?”

“Matilda said that dinner was mac and cheese with bacon bits at seven, however she did also imply that it wasn’t compulsory for us to attend dinner at the specified time. Seven o'clock is in 57 minutes.” Cas answered, knowing that it would likely be Dean’s next question. A grumble was only his response, before the hunter stood up properly and headed towards the door.

“Better go get Sammy and Claire before we try and find the kitchen then, don't want to miss out on home cooked food.”

Claire was in Sammy’s room with him, and they were both tapping away on their laptops, apparently hooked up to the wife already, and casually discussing the case. They didn't even look round as Dean opened the door, or when Cas closed it behind them.

“Alright, unplug yourselves. We've got some exploring to do.”

“They have a map of the bunker on their server, we know where everything is now.”

“Ah come on, where's the fun in that? Fine, me and Cas will go explore, and we're not telling you when dinner is!”

Claire turned her laptop round to show Dean the information screen, showing him the food timetable alongside a list of names of bunker staff and their roles.

“Everything here is written up somewhere easy to find. We can get into all their active cases to make suggestions and add information, all their past cases from before the victorian era are also written up for reference purposes. This whole place runs like a well-oiled machine.”

“And yet they need our help for one case.” Dean shot back, grinning with pride.

“Dean, they've never seen a Dearg-Due ever before, and I mean ever. The only notes on that case are the research notes and some old report from Ireland that doesn't actually detail how to kill one.”

Dean grumbled under his breath, before grabbing Cas’ hand and pulling him from the room, Cas giving a mildly apologetic smile and a slight wave before closing the door behind them both. The hand holding lasted only until they reached half way along the balcony and Dean realised that the people in the common room could see them.

Down the stairs into the corridor, and Dean’s exploring took another below, as every door had a hand carved wooden sign reading what it was. All these rooms were artefact rooms and every door was locked, and Dean didn't think that picking locks would be a good way to keep everyone friendly. The wide double doors at the other end lead into a huge dining area that reminded Dean of a high school canteen, only with no matching furniture. A table might have two or three matching chairs around it, if it was lucky. The floor was still flagstones, only these ones were darker than the one of the common room or corridor. A canteen-eske counter ran along the entire length of the back wall, with the kitchens open and easy to view behind it.

Three people were busily working behind it, not paying them any attention at all until they they got right up to the counter. A young girl, only seventeen, moved from wiping down surfaces over to them, big smile on her face. She was dressed somewhere between hunter and waitress, her brown hair pinned up into a messy looking bun.

“What can I do for you? Dinner isn't starting for another twenty minutes yet.”

“Tilly did not say that you were making such a wide choice of foods.” Cas responded, although it wasn't entirely directed at the girl.

“You must be new here, Tilly only ever tells people about the dish she's most interested in, we can't expect her to remember half a dozen different things every day,that's what the menu board is for.” she replied, pointing a thumb back at chalk board where indeed, was a list of six different main meals, next to long list of cakes and cookies.

“When dinner starts, just bring up a plate and help yourself. Desserts get served from half eight, though there isn't anything fancy on today.”

“You’re saying I can eat as much or as little as I want? What's the catch with working for you guys?”

“We risk life and limb out on the job keeping the oblivious public safe?” she replied.

“How the hell are you paying for all this?”

“We don't, the government makes sure we have a never ending pot to dip into whenever we need something. It's all legitimate, not like it is in America.”

Dean’s jaw nearly hit the floor, looking around in disbelief: a proper branch of the government, no more difficulty getting files or trouble with the law. These people probably ly even had official badges they could flash and get them in anywhere.

“This is a large operation then? How do you manage to keep your activities hidden if you are an acknowledged part of your government?”

“Oh, didn't say we were acknowledged. We're buried deep in the paperwork no one ever bothers to look at, and this is the UK. People know that bad things they can't explain happen, but no one looks too deep at it, and normally they end up getting recruited, that's how my dad got in anyway. But this is the same country where a good suit and a clipboard will get you in more places than a police badge ever could.” she said, smiling between the two of them. “So, how'd you two get dragged into this business then?”

Dean bit his lip, not entirely sure how much information he wanted to divulge yo a complete stranger, but Cas barely hesitated.

“It's been the Winchesters family business for a long time.”

“And you got roped in later after the scuffle from heaven?” she asked, and this time it was Dean’s turn to step in while Cas reeled a little.

“Can all you people see his wings? What the hell is going on with everyone knowing he's an angel?”

“Oh, my step-dad gifted me with ‘Heaven's Sight’ when he adopted me.”

“And just what is ‘Heaven's Sight’? Cas have you been holding out on us?”

“Heaven's Sight is not something that humans should have to endure, as it can often lead to them becoming blind on observing an angel if the sigil is draw even slightly incorrectly, and normally it is never draw unto someone's skin in a permanent manner. I also do not know what the sigil is supposed to look like.” he added slightly apologetically towards Dean.

“Yeah well, Osborn isn't a full angel, and he only gave me it because he needed help sorting his wings out while Dad was away on a hunt. Tilly’s just an odd case, but that's not my story to tell.” she said, holding out her wrist to show them both a very intricate sigil tattooed into her wrist besides an anti possession tattoo. “But it explains why your wings look a little ragged- Cas did you say it was? And Winchester?”

“Yeah that's us.”

“So you must be Dean. I wondered if Osborn would bring you in on his case. But if you want Heaven's Sight, find Philip after dinner and I'm sure he'll be able to give you it, Cas’ wings look like they could use a little grooming.”

Castiel seemed to bristle a little at the comment, suddenly a little defensive.

“My wings are at more than an acceptable level of grooming. But I am not able to reach all of the feathers.”

“Yeah well, little bit of ink under Dean’s sink and you can spend all night at it.” she said, giving a suggestive wink before retreating back into the kitchen, leaving Cas looking incredibly embarrassed and Dean very intrigued. Before Dean could voice his questions though, the doors swung open in both corners of the room and people started piling in, as food was suddenly being served.

Cas left to secure them a table, as Dean started loading up two separate plates with as much food as he could before heading to the table, finding that cutlery was already waiting for him, along with a jug of water and a trio of glasses from a different part of the counter. Claire joined them within the next ten minutes with a plate of chips covered in cheese heaped next to a dish of baked macaroni and cheese floor followed by Sam not much later with his inevitable bowl of leaves and vegetables. Ten minutes of silence as everyone ate and Cas watched the room slowly fill.

“Hello! May we sit with you?” a familiar voice asked, as Tilly appeared with her dish of mac and cheese, huge grin plastered across her face that became imposingly wider when Cas nodded and she chose to sit next to him rather than Claire, and the man hovering behind her sat down in the last available space without a word, only handing Tilly cutlery and what was apparently her glass of juice he'd been carrying. He looked a little out of place, with a baggy jumper and belt lacking any sort of weaponry, combined with the way he carried himself wrong to be a hunter like he didn't expect a fight at any given moment.

It was only when Osborn came along that any more words were spoken.

“Winchesters! And Novak. The car is loaded and ready to go bright and early tomorrow morning. Claire, you're welcome to join us in our hunt but if you'd rather stay here I don't blame you. Dylan on the desk can get you whatever transport you need to explore.” he said, clearly relaxed and at home, basically draping himself over the man sat next to Tilly shoulders once he had said his little piece, and the man's only reaction was to press a kiss to Osborn’s cheek before giving a gruff. “I'm trying to eat.” which in no way prompted Osborn to move.

“Oz, I'm eating and you're making everyone else a little uncomfortable.” he tried again.

“Well Tilly isn't.” he grumbled as he stood back up, although one hand stayed on his shoulder. “You always ruin my fun.” he grumbled, before looking round to at them with a smile. “Dean, you could have gone back for seconds or even thirds rather than get two plates. There's nearly always leftovers.”

“Oz-”

“Oh come on Phil, it's my bunker, surely that means I get to say and do what I want?”

“So this is your mate?” Cas asked, leaning forwards with hands on the table and a look of mild curiosity.

“Oh, you didn't even introduce yourself? And you lecture me on manners. Yes, this is Philip, my husband. He's our resident translator and tattoo artist.”

“So you are the Philip who can give Dean the tattoo to give him Heaven's Sight?”

“Yes, that's me.”

“Wait a minute, Heaven's Sight? As in, seeing angel wings and never having to put sunglasses on to see hell hounds Heaven's Sight?” Sam asked, to which Philip nodded.

“Wait, you knew about this as well and neither of you told me?” Dean snapped at Sam. “How come I'm the last one to know about this?”

“Because the sigil was lost and even the angels forgot it because it puts them at such a big disadvantage. I rediscovered the exact sigil not long after I became part of this community.” Philip explained. “But it did take awhile to work out it if it was completely safe, because part of the sigil does look like something not so friendly, which I assume is by design?”

Castiel blinked slightly, realising that it had become a question and that it was directed at him. “I have no idea, I didn’t look that closely at it when the girl behind the counter showed it to us.” he admitted. To which Phil pulled up the right sleeve of his jumper to reveal a patchwork of so many different protection sigils it took them all a moment to actually spot the sigil emblazoned across his inner wrist, beside an anti-possession tattoo which was the only one any of them recognised.

“Yes, it does look like it may be harmful, and would be if these two letters were done incorrectly,” Cas said, pointing to two of the most intricate looking marks in the sigil. “Is that a celtic mark to protect from diseases?”

“No, that celtic mark is to stop witches being able to curse me, though it doesn’t really work as well as I thought. Every time a witch tries to curse you, it knocks you unconscious for half an hour rather than just deflecting the curse.” Philip answered, pulling his sleeve back down.

“Pappy you have to hurry up so we can get cake!” Tilly said, interrupting everyone’s current train of thought and pulling on Phil’s hand until he stood up and gave them all a nod goodbye as he was dragged away, Osborn taking his seat without hesitation.

“So, we’ll leave for the Dearg-Due case early tomorrow morning? It’ll only take a couple of hours driving.”

Nods of agreement, before Tilly returned with a plate of cupcakes and Osborn pulled her onto his lap and stole one, “Oh, and Dean? There’s apple pie on offer right now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got a little bit carried away with character building OCs and setting out the British Bunker, so sorry about that, but there will be plenty of fighting next chapter!

**Author's Note:**

> I was thinking about making this a series, with the boys going around England/UK/Europe with Osborn and some other ocs? Not sure, let me know what you think?


End file.
